"Let him know I'm here."
"Will do." A few minutes later she was sitting in the basement lab across the workbench from Oliver, diffidently watching him fill the next batch of a dozen or so implants for tomorrow's surgery. She already had a headache, and the residual olfactory tang of solvents was conspiring with the bright overhead fluorescents to make it worse. She should have been working with Oliver, learning the technique, but she couldn't muster the concentration.
Her chin rested on her hands and her elbows were propped on the marred black counter. She felt leaden, as if someone had siphoned off all her energy . . . the aftermath of. the morning's events, and the certainty that Duncan was going to fire her.
'"He's not going to fire you, " Oliver said.
She glanced up at him. He sat calmly in his white coat, his pudgy hands folded in front of him. But she read genuine sympathy in the round, pale face and in the blue eyes behind the thick horn-rimmed lenses. Hard to believe he and Duncan shared the same gene pool.
"How can you be so sure? ' "He tends to fly off the handle lately.
Ever since they reconvened that darn committee. ' "What is it with him and that committee? " '"Well, years ago he had a bit of trouble . .
.
' His voice trailed off.
"What sort of trouble? " '"Nothing. Forget I said anything." Gin wasn't forgetting anything. Especially after this morning. Another question was burning through her brainpan.
"All right then. Tell me this, Who's Lisa? " "Lisa? " "Yes. I heard Duncan mention something about a Lisa this . , .
morning.
The implant Oliver was filling suddenly burst. "I . . . I don't know.
He had a daughter named Lisa."
"Had? " "Yes, well, " The phone rang.
Oliver picked it up and listened. "She's right here, " he said, then handed it across to her. Duncan's voice, "Gin, please come to my office." Her mouth went dry. "Okay. Sure." The other end clicked dead. That in itself was not indicative of anything, Duncan rarely said hello or good-bye on the phone, but she could feel her insides coiling into knots. She handed the receiver back to Oliver. "He wants to see me." Oliver smiled. "See?
He's cooled down already."
"I wouldn't be too sure of that."
"I'll talk to him if you want."
"Thanks, but I'd better handle this myself.
" With the knots inside pulling even tighter, she rose and headed for Duncan's office. This was it. She'd been in his office before, many times, but usually just a quick stop before surgery to discuss some potential problem with one of his patients. This was the first time he'd actually called and asked her to his office.
He's going to fire me.
Financially, that would not be a catastrophe. She wasn't getting paid all that much here and she could take an extra shift as house doctor at Lynnbrook. But still . . . Her throat constricted.
Fired . . . being fired by anyone from any job would hurt. But to be kicked out by Duncan Lathram . . .
Devastating.
She wasn't going to back down, though. Not when she was doing the right thing. But how to explain it to him? From what she could see, the days when doctors could focus solely on their patients and ignore what Washington was up to were gone. Dead as the Jurassic age.
For their patients' sake as well as their own, doctors had to get involved in the process. And any doctor who thought otherwise was a dinosaur, already extinct but simply unaware of the fact.
Sure, she thought. That's it. Tell Duncan he's the best surgeon alive, but he's a dinosaur. He'll definitely want to keep me on then.
Gin forced a smile as she approached Barbara's desk.
"He's expecting me."
"I know, " Barbara said. "He told me to hold his calls." Oh, great.
Gin hesitated at the door, then pushed through.
Duncan's officer was a spacious quadrangle with floor-to ceiling glass along most of the far wall. The last of the morning sun was slipping from the room but still shining brightly on the oriental rock garden and koi pond outside.
Very little of the off-white walls was visible, the few sections not obscured by mahogany bookcases filled with medical texts and surgical journals were studded with plaques, degrees, diplomas, and certificates from licensing and specialty boards. An oversized antique partners desk stretched before the window-wall. A glorious Persian rug covered most of the hardwood floor.
The wall on the far right angled to a large cabinet custombuilt for the narrow corner. Duncan had the cabinet open and stood before it now, his back to her, engrossed in whatever he was doing.
He half turned as she closed the door behind her.
'"Good. You're just in time" He motioned her closer. "Come watch this." A little off balance from the casual greeting, he seemed a changed man since this morning, and more than a little unsure of herself, she complied. As she approached she heard a whirring noise, like an electric drill. When she reached his side she was startled to see what he was up to.
Grinding coffee.
'"Just got these in, ' he said. "Costa Rican La Minita Tarrazu. A superb batch of beans." He dumped the ground coffee into the open end of a chrome funnel set in the top of an insulated carafe.
Gin didn't see any white inside the funnel. "You forgot the filter.
" '"Don't worry. It's in there. I use a gold mesh filter. Paper soaks up too many of the oils that give a coffee its character.
Remember that.
Always use a gold filter. And here's something else to remember." He reached into the little microwave to his left and removed a half-quart Pyrex cup full of steaming water. He took two tablespoons of water and added them to the cone.
"Always wet your grounds first. Give them about thirty seconds to swell, then add the rest of the water. But not boiling water.
You don't want scalded coffee. Bring the water to a boil and let it sit for about a minute, then pour it over the damp grounds. But not just any water. Use spring water. Don't use that chemical-laden junk from the tap." He emptied the Pyrex cup into the cone, then rubbed his . . . . . .
hands in anticipation.
"You're about to have a real experience, Gin. Just possibly the best cup of coffee in the world." He turned to her. "Any news from Marsden's office yet? " "No. I'm not terribly sanguine about my chances. ' Sanguine? She never used that word. Must be Duncan's influence. "My interview wasn't with Senator Marsden, you know. It was with his chief of staff. We didn't exactly hit it off."
"Shot down by the senator's staff, eh? And I guess you didn't get your chance to impress Allard either."
"Hardly. That was some fall he had. Lucky to be In one piece after the way he hit the sidewalk."